


Captive II

by daoinhe



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-20 01:28:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17612843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daoinhe/pseuds/daoinhe
Summary: BLU Pyro brings RED Pyro home with him.  This ends badly.





	1. Day One

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re write of Captive, done the way that I had originally intended. This is not a happy story with a happy ending. When I first started writing Captive, it took on a life of it's own (with a little help from my beta) and turned into a bit of a love story. This is not a love story. All that aside, if you are easily triggered by rape and non con, read this at your own risk. I was wanting to write something gritty and dark, and think I may have succeeded. IDK, you be the judge of that. Also, just a word of warning, if you have read Captive, the beginning of this story is pretty much the beginning of that story. A few words have been changed around, but that is all.

At the end of the day, silence fell over the battlefield. The Administrator’s voice boomed over loudspeakers, announcing the BLU’s win. The humiliation round was brief, afterwards the BLU team congregated back at their base, laughing and high fiving each other, celebrating their win and the upcoming weekend. Scout, who’d been standing at the open bay doors and gazing over the explosion scarred landscape, suddenly nudged Demo. “Hey, look at Pyro, man. What’s he got on his shoulder?”

Demo peered out the door with his one good eye, frown lines appearing in the middle of his forehead. He watched as Pyro got closer to the base’s doors, the other mercs gathering closer to see what the two were so enthralled with. 

The blue suited Pyro plodded closer, heavy boots thumping on the loading dock leading to the base, humming softly under his breath. Walking into the coolness of the loading bay, dark tinted lenses swept over his teammates for a moment before he turned toward his room. The gathered and silent mercs stared at the red bundle thrown over one strong shoulder as he kept walking, humming a jaunty tune. Booted feet dangled down his back and limp hands swung in front of him with every step. Finally, Engie spoke up with some trepidation. 

“Hey, Pyro, what you got there?” He asked.

Pyro turned, the blank lenses of his mask hiding his expression and stopped humming. “Mmmyrrr frrrennnph.” 

Engie tilted his head to the side, studying the RED bundle closer. “Py, is that the RED pyro?” He stepped in closer and Pyro backed up a few steps, nodded his head and turned back toward his room.

Engie watched as he started to walk away again. Spy nudged him suddenly. “We cannot simply allow him to keep the enemy pyro, can we? Talk to him, Labouré. See if you can get the Pyro from him so that we can return it to its base.”

Engie looked at Spy out of the corner of his eye, most of his attention on their Pyros broad back. “You talk to him. You know what his temper’s like.”

Spy frowned. “He respects you. Likes you. That is why you must do it.” He nudged Engie, pushing him forward a bit. “Go on, talk to him.”

Engie staggered forward a step and looked at the other mercenaries. They all nodded agreement and stepped back, giving him a clear line of sight to the Pyro’s retreating back. With a sigh, Engie cleared his throat and stepped quickly across the room, calling his name. Pyro stopped walking, his back stiffening. Slowly, he turned and faced the smaller man, looming over him.

Engie cleared his throat. “Hey, Partner, don’t you think maybe you should give the RED back to it’s team? I reckon they’ll miss their Pyro. They’re gonna be pretty pissed off if you keep it.”

Pyro turned to him, menace evident in every line of his body. “Wrnts pllllyyy. Nnnnmmmmpfff.” His free hand pulled up the shotgun he held, pointing it straight at Engie’s chest. “Mmmiiinnneee…” The last word was distinct, carefully enunciated to make sure it was understood.

Engie backed up a step, his hands going up in a gesture of surrender. “Fine, boy. At least let the Doc take a look at it, make sure it don’t die on ya…”

Pyro tilted his head to the side, contemplating for a moment. Finally, he nodded, starting back down the corridor. The rest of the team followed, curiosity roused now.

Pyro plodded along the halls to his room and upon entering, dumped the limp body of the RED Pyro onto his bed. He pulled his mask off and dropped it onto the beat-up nightstand, then turned to glare at the rest of his team, crowding into the doorway. “It’s mine.” He frowned at them all. “I’ll let the Doctor look at it, but that’s all.” He turned back to the bed and sat on the edge, one hand possessively on the smaller Pyro’s chest. “Hurry up, Doc. Get this over with.” He reached over and began removing the RED Pyro’s mask. Rolling the thick rubber up, he revealed a heart shaped face, fine boned and framed with short auburn hair. Cupid’s bow lips and a button nose with a sprinkling of freckles caused Scout to whistle softly. “Jeez, it’s a girl.” He whispered softly. 

Pyro glared at him. “Mine, Scout. Go get your own RED.” He turned back to the enemy pyro and unzipped the heavy asbestos suit, sliding her arms out and folding them primly across her chest. She was wearing a white tank top, same as his. He smiled and ran gloved fingers over her cheek gently, leaving a sooty trail behind. 

Medic cautiously approached the bed. Pyro perched on the edge, wary eyes focused on the tall doctor’s face. His hand fell to the shotgun he’d propped against the nightstand. “Just make her better, Doc. Then go.” 

Medic began to examine the girl, hands running over her clinically. He poked and prodded, lifting her eyelids to peer into her eyes. “She has broken ribs and a compound fracture of her left leg. Also, a concussion. That is very dangerous.” He glanced up at the other man. “She would be far easier to treat in the clinic. You will allow me to take her there, yes?” 

Pyro’s fingers ran over the shotgun and he shook his head, dark hair flipping into his eyes. “No. You can do what you need to here. I’ll take care of her.” 

Medic nodded. “Fine, Pyro. But you must be very gentle with her, even after I heal her. Do you understand?” 

Pyro nodded, his dark eyes focused on the girl’s face. “I understand, Doc.” There was a note of tenderness in his voice. 

With a sigh, knowing this was going to end badly, Medic flipped a switch on his MediGun and trained the beam on the enemy. Soon, she stirred slightly on the bed, eyes fluttering open. 

“What the…?” she lurched upwards, arms flailing, eyes wide. Pyro slammed his fist into the side of her head, knocking her out again. Turning to the Medic, he frowned. “Out. Now.” His hand landed on the shotgun once more and Medic hurriedly back out of the room. The other mercenaries remained gathered in the hallway. Pyro closed the door behind them, turning the key in the lock. He could hear them talking. His shoulders slumped for a second, he sagged against the door. When he’d found the RED Pyro, he’d thought it, no she, he corrected himself, was dead. But when the body didn’t get picked up by respawn, he’d realized that she was alive. Bringing her home had seemed like a good idea at the time. Still did, no matter what the rest of the team thought. With a sigh he walked over to the stash of junk in the corner of his room and dug around for a moment. Finding the 10-foot length of chain he’d been saving to wrap around his axe, he walked back over to the girl. Looping one end of the chain around her slender ankle, he fastened it with a padlock. The other end was looped to the leg of his bed. Leaning back, he admired his handiwork then began moving weapons out of her reach. He had a feeling that when she woke up, she was gonna be mad. 

 

When the RED Pyro woke up, she couldn’t figure out how she got into her bed. She was warm, and the blankets were drawn up over her shoulders, and she was surrounded by pillows. The last thing she remembered was trying to reflect a BLU rocket and getting thrown into a wall. She stirred and rolled over, opening her eyes. That was when she realized that something was horribly wrong. Her suit was gone. So were her clothes. She never slept nude. The paint on the wall was blue. It was faded and there were scorch marks everywhere, but still obviously blue paint. She sat up and her eyes immediately fell on the man sitting in the straight-backed chair in the corner. He had dark hair and dark eyes, with burn scars covering the left half of his face. They ran down his neck and disappeared into the heavy blue sweater he was wearing. Over all, she thought, it was a handsome face, the scars just adding to the aura of danger surrounding the man. He shifted, and her eyes fell to the shotgun laid casually across his knee. Leaning over, he nonchalantly propped it against the wall near him. 

“You’re awake.” His voice was husky and deep, the accent hard to place but slow and drawling. He stood up and smiled at her. “I thought you were gonna sleep all night.” He stepped toward her and Red began scooting backwards toward the wall. She scooted herself into the corner and crouched on her heels, fists up.

“Where am I? Who are you?” Her voice hoarse, she cleared her throat, desperately looking around for some way to stall his approach. 

“I’m Martin. You’re home.” He had reached the edge of the bed. He stopped walking and just stared at her for a moment, dark eyes twinkling in the dim light. Her eyes widened as his hands went to the button on his jeans, unfastening them, scarred fingers pulling down his zipper. “You just don’t realize it yet.” 

She got her feet under her and dove past him as he stepped out of his pants. The breath was knocked out of her as a strong arm wrapped around her stomach and jerked her backwards. She cried out at the heat of his body against her back and began flailing her fists, trying to get loose. He grunted as her fist connected with something tender and he fell on top of her, pinning her to the bed. Red screamed. His knees were between her legs, forcing them apart and her shoulders were pinned into the soft mattress by his hands. She couldn’t get enough leverage to shift his bulk off her. She screamed again as she felt one hand groping between her thighs. The other hand shifted from her shoulder to the back of her head, pressing her face into the mattress. She put both her hands on the soft surface, pushing back as hard as possible, but it did no good. She couldn’t breathe. She tried to gasp in air but the hand at the back of her head was relentless. 

Spots started to form in front of her eyes and she could feel her struggles getting weaker. Just as the darkness began to bloom across her vision, the hand at the back of her head fisted itself into her hair and dragged her face up. She took in deep shuddering breaths, panic racing through her. She felt his hardness dragging across her, between her folds, and suddenly his body jerked forward as he impaled her. She screamed against the pain burning between her legs. He was too big, she was not ready for him. It felt like she’d been split in half. She cried out in agony as he thrust inside her once more, then he went still. 

His free hand wormed under her stomach, lifting her off the bed and allowing her to get her arms under herself. She struggled to pull away from the agony, body bucking and jerking against him, but he held her hips firmly in place. 

“That’s it, girl. Fight all you want, wear yourself out.” His voice was little more than a whisper as his hand moved in slow circles on her stomach. “No matter what you do, you’re mine.” 

She reacted to his voice with sheer terror, twisting and throwing her body back and forth, trying to free herself from him. He stayed firmly planted inside her, fingers bruising her flesh as they dug into her hips. At last her struggles slowed and he began to move inside her. She whined deep in her throat, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was limp beneath him, too exhausted to struggle. His hand moved from her hip, sliding up to tweak her nipple, causing her to whimper in pain. She tried to scream but all that came out was a hoarse wail, her throat raw. His mouth nuzzled against her neck at the sound, she tried to pull away but his grip was like steel. The tears came faster as his breathing started to speed up, he was pounding into her harder now, his movements jerky and arrhythmic. Finally, with a guttural moan, he came inside her. A few final strokes and he collapsed on her, smashing her back into the mattress. He lay still for a moment, then rolled onto his side, pulling her body with him and spooning her tightly. She lay still, sobbing quietly. Her entire body felt bruised, violated. The burning between her legs was a stark reminder of his presence inside her. She felt scraped raw, body and soul. Closing her eyes, she allowed the darkness of exhaustion to take her.


	2. Day Two

DAY TWO  
She woke up to hands stroking her breasts, warm lips on her throat. She stirred, trying to pull away from him, but Martin’s fingers pinched her nipple, making her cry out. “Lay still, little bird. Or touch me back.” His teeth raked against her skin and his fingers went to her nipples, tugging on them. “But don’t ever try to pull away from me. That will get you hurt.” He breathed into her hair, the skin on her neck breaking out in goosebumps at the feel of his hot breath. “Do you understand me, little bird?” 

Red nodded, looking anywhere but at him. Her hand went to his chest, tracing the burn scars down his left side. “If you let me go now, I won’t tell anyone.” She looked up at him, blue eyes meeting brown. “We can pretend this never happened and my team won’t target you.” She worried her lip between her teeth, concentrating on how to convince him to release her. 

He chuckled, laying a finger across her lips, shushing her. “Do you really think I’m worried about your team?” His hand slid lower, fingers brushing her stomach, then sliding down to knead her thighs. “I’ll burn them all in their beds if they try to take you from me.” He shrugged, his voice matter of fact. “You aren’t going anywhere little bird. Not until I let you go.” Propping himself up on his elbow, he stared down the length of her body. “I captured you. I will keep you.” His fingers dipped between her thighs and she pulled away from him instinctively. His eyes narrowed. “I told you not to do that.” Darting forward, his teeth latched onto her breast, biting down hard.

She pounded on his head with her fist, a high-pitched whine escaping her lips. Martin ground his teeth together, feeling them cushioned by the soft flesh of her breast, wanting to bite down harder, to make her bleed, but resisting. He pressed his finger into her, sinking it to the knuckle and grinding his fist into her pelvis. She cried out, jerking her hips away from him, eyes filling with tears again. When a second finger joined the first, she screamed at the burning pain, pounding on his back with both fists. 

“Get out of me! Get out of me!” It became a mantra, the single phrase repeated over and over as she beat her fists into his solid back. Grabbing his hair in her fist, she tried to pull his teeth from her flesh, to no avail. When her struggles weakened, he rolled on top of her, mounting her and pounding himself into her. Finding his release, he dropped his sweaty brow onto her neck and nuzzled close, ignoring her tears. “You’re like a little bird, fluttering against a cage. It doesn’t have to be this way, little bird. I don’t have to make you hurt.” He propped his body off hers with one arm and used his free hand to brush the tears from her cheeks. “You just need to stop fighting me.” He stared down at her for a moment, eyes solemn. “I don’t like hurting you. You’re not really leaving me with a choice here.” 

Red didn’t answer him, closing her eyes tightly and turning her face to the wall. She fought back waves of nausea, struggling to stay calm. He sighed, then rolled off her and sat on the edge of the bed. She heard his jeans slide up his legs and he stood, zipping them.   
“I’ll bet you’re hungry, aren’t you?” His hand caressed her shoulder briefly and she lay still, holding her breathe. “I’m going to go find breakfast.” The faint rustling of his bare feet across the floor was followed by the door opening and closing. 

 

 

When Martin returned to the room, he had a plate piled with bacon and biscuits. The comforting smells permeated the air, making Red’s stomach grumble with hunger. She sat up slowly, unwinding herself from the nest of blankets she’d built around herself, watching the enemy warily. He stepped forward and sat the plate down on the floor, then gestured to her. “Well?” 

She got off the bed and walked the few short steps to the plate, crouching down to pick it up without taking her eyes off him. “Pets eat on the floor.” He frowned at her. “Sit it back down.” 

Red frowned, debating. Finally, pride won over hunger and common sense and she sat the plate back down, then moved back to the bed. 

Martin stood up and walked over to her, watching her cringe slightly at his approach. “You aren’t gonna eat, are you?” 

She shook her head. “I’m not your dog.” The words shot out before she could think. She knew it was a mistake as soon as she said it, but it was too late to take back. 

Martin’s hand shot out and clenched around her neck. She tried to pull back, but it was no use. She screamed and kicked and flailed about as he dragged her back to the plate and pushed her down. Her knees flared with pain as they dragged across the floor, small streaks of blood staining the concrete. When he got her to the plate, he pushed her head down. “Eat.” His voice was low and rough, he rubbed her face into the food, then stepped back and waited.   
Red pulled her face out of the plate and snarled at him, picking the plate up. Bits of food clung to her face and chest and she looked at the mess for a brief second before hurling the plate at him. Martin dodged, the plate sailed harmlessly past him, shattering on the far wall. With a snarl to match her own, he crossed the floor in a few long strides, grabbing the girl’s ankle as she frantically backpedaled away from him. With a hard jerk, he pulled her closer. She shrieked as the skin of her back dragged across the rough floor. Wrapping one hand around her throat, he picked her up and shook her. Holding her at arms length with one hand, he drew back the other and punched her, hard. Her head snapped back and she sagged in his grip. With a sigh, he dropped her onto the bed and began cleaning up the mess.

Red lay where she’d been dropped, watching Martin pick up the larger pieces of broken plate. It had been stupid to throw it, she’d known it when she’d done it, but she was not a pet. She tried to sit up and was stopped by a wave of dizziness followed by the overwhelming urge to vomit. Leaning her head back down, she tried to stay very still, hoping the room would stop spinning. When it did not, she gagged. 

Hearing the odd noise, Martin turned around to see the RED pyro lying on her side, gagging helplessly. Her left eye was swelling at an alarming rate and the entire left side of her face was bruised. With a sigh, he unchained her from the bed and picked her up, tossing her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing. He carried her down the hall to the infirmary, pushed open the double doors and dropped her onto a gurney. “Medic!” His voice echoed through the room and was met with a clang from the other side of a large door.

With a muffled curse in German, Medic pushed through the door, frowning at the interruption. “You’ve broken her, haven’t you?” 

Martin nodded.

Medic sighed and walked over to look at the girl on the table. Her respirations were shallow and labored, she was holding one hand to the left side of her face where extensive bruising was evident. He pulled down her eyelids and flashed a penlight into her eyes. Pupils unequally dilated, he noted, and she was not tracking well. Most likely another concussion, he thought to himself. There was also extensive bruising down her right side and what appeared to be a boot print on her rib cage. Taking the Medigun, he turned it on the girl, letting the beam wash over her. He stared in fascination, watching the bruising fade, hearing bones knit within her. He smiled, the healing always fascinated him. At last he turned the beam off and looked at Martin. 

“I did warn you to be gentle with her. She cannot stand the amount of trauma you are used to administering.”

Martin frowned. “I was being gentle, Doc.” He ran a calloused hand over her hip. “I swear, I held back with her.”

Medic shook his head. “She needs food and something to drink. Herr Pyro, if you would please go to the kitchen and find something?” An elegant eyebrow arched as he stared at Martin.   
Martin frowned. “I’ll go, but I’m telling you right now Doc, if you lay a finger on her while I’m gone, I will kill you over and over.”

Medic sighed. “I really don’t need your leftovers, Herr Pyro. Go, please.”

Medic watched as the Pyro backed slowly out of the room, then turned back to the girl. Taking her chin in his hand, he tilted her head up and stared into her eyes. “Do you want to survive this with minimal injury?”   
She looked at him defiantly and he squeezed her chin hard, making her gasp at the sharp pain. “Answer me, girl. We do not have all day.”

“Yes.” Red’s voice quivered. 

“Good. You will listen carefully to me. Herr Pyro is a dangerous man, a man who does not know his own strength, and a man with a terrible temper. You must do exactly as he asks of you, and he will not harm you. Allow him to think that you enjoy his company. He is not overly cruel, he simply does not like being told no. “

Red eyed him suspiciously. “Why are you telling me this? Why are you trying to help?” She looked away from his sharp eyes. “Why not just kill me now?”

Medic squeezed her chin again, harder this time. “I am telling you this because even though we are paid to be enemies, I do not want the wrath of your entire team coming down on us.” He chuckled, an oddly happy sound from the large man, especially given the situation. “Don’t think that I am a good man, or that I am doing this because I feel sympathy for you. If I had found you, I would have brought you to my clinic to test the extent of your pain receptors while flaying you alive. Then I would have harvested your organs, all while keeping the medigun trained on you to prevent you from losing consciousness. And when I finished, I may or may not have masturbated into the empty cavities where those organs used to be.” He smiled at her as the color drained from her face. 

“But Herr Pyro has claimed you and I will not cross him even though it has been a very long time since I’ve had a female test subject.” He stepped back from her with an eloquent shrug of broad shoulders. “The choice is yours, heed my advice or not. It really is all the same in the end.”

At that moment, Martin pushed through the swinging doors with a cheap plastic tray in his hands. Red looked up in relief, then slipped down off the table and went to him. When she approached, he looked at the Doctor quizzically for a moment, then handed her the tray and slipped a protective arm over her shoulders. “Everything alright, birdie?” 

She nodded, sniffing briefly at the mugful of broth before picking it up and drinking from it. She smiled at him, and even though her expression felt stiff and fake, he returned it with a genuine smile. “I like chicken. Thank you.” She sat the tray on the gurney she’d just vacated and pressed herself closer to Martin’s side, unable to restrain a shudder of fear. 

Martin eyed the doctor once again, then shrugged. “Thanks, Doc. We’ll see you around, k?” With those words, he guided her out into the hallway and back to his room. Closing and locking the door behind him, he turned to her. “You want to tell me what’s going on?” 

She glanced up at him, then away again. “What do you mean?”

He gripped her arm tightly. “You, smiling and being nice. You’ve spent the past day trying your damnedest to get as far from me as possible and now you want to be all over me?” 

She sighed. “Your Medic is crazy. He just told me that he wouldn’t cut me to pieces because of you. I wanted out of that room before he decided he didn’t care who I belong to.”

Martin grinned at her unintentional choice of words. “Who do you belong to, Birdie?” 

She looked down at the blood streaked across the floor, her blood, hoping to hide the anger in her eyes. “You, Martin. I belong to you.”

He nodded and caressed her cheek lightly. “That’s a good girl, Birdie. I should have introduced you to the Medic sooner. And don’t worry, you’ll start to believe the things you tell me.”

She glanced up at him. “What?”

“Eventually, you won’t think it’s a lie when you tell me you belong to me. Eventually you’ll know it’s the truth. That’s the day I’m waiting for, darling.” He sat down on the bed and smiled expectantly. “Now, come here and let me cuddle my good girl. You deserve a reward for lying so well.”

Birdie sighed and walked over to him. Having met the Medic, she decided to stay as far from the infirmary as possible. Martin’s arms went around her waist and he pulled her down on top of him, holding her close. She lay still, body tense, waiting for the inevitable caresses to start. When he simply kept his arms around her, content to hold her, she began to relax. His warmth seeped into her bones and she began to get drowsy. She startled when he rolled onto his side, but he ran a hand down her flank, soothing her. “Go back to sleep, little bird. My arm was going numb.” Birdie nodded and murmured something, then burrowed closer to his warmth. Martin stroked her hair, lost in thought. 

 

When she woke up, Martin was not in the room with her. Red sat up on the edge of his bed and looked around. The mingled scents of smoke, gasoline, and sex wafted up from the rumpled bedclothes, reminding her of the events of the last day and making her cringe inside. She hoped that her own team was looking for her, that someone would come soon. 

She stood up and made a slow circuit of the room on shaky legs. The chain had been reattached to her ankle, limiting her movement, but the need to do something was overwhelming. She’d always thought better when moving anyway. She sighed and thought back on the BLU Medic’s words. He’d told her to go along with this madman, then revealed that he was an even bigger psychopath than the one she was currently trapped with. How was that even possible, she wondered. Did BLU include that on their job requirements? And speaking of psychopaths, where was he? She got down on her knees by the bed, examining the way the chain was fastened to the bed leg. The padlock was big, the chain was thick, and the bed was bolted to the floor. Nothing she could do there, unless she could find a way to get those bolts loose. Her search for a makeshift tool turned up nothing. She groaned and put her head between her knees, breathing deeply. She could feel the panic starting to rise again and she determinedly pushed it back down. This was not the time to collapse. 

The door opened just then and Martin walked in to find her kneeling by the foot of the bed, arms clutching herself tightly. Her breathing was deep and slow, he recognized the technique as something his psychiatrists had shown him. He walked over to her, looming. One large hand dropped to her head, stroking her hair. 

“It’s all a bit overwhelming, isn’t it, Birdie?” Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled her up onto his lap and started rocking her back and forth. “I know I’d be panicking by now. You’re a strong woman.” He smiled down at her, then set her aside. “I’ve got something to show you.” He picked up a piece of thick wire that he’d taken from Engie’s workshop. While he’d been there, he’d bent and shaped it into his class symbol, the flames surrounded by a circle. Holding it up for her to see, he ran a finger lightly over the edges. “I’ve got a surprise for you little bird.”

He lay the wire down carefully on the nightstand. Moving too quickly for her to react, he pinned her to the bed, straddling her, letting his full weight rest on her stomach. Red struggled under him, her hands beating futilely at his chest. With an evil grin, he trapped her arms and brought them down under his knees, resting his weight on them. He slid a hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out his lighter, then grabbed the twisted wire from the nightstand. “This is gonna hurt, baby, but it’s ok to scream.” He flicked the lighter and held the flame to the wire. “When it’s done, everybody will know who you belong to.” His eyes focused on the flame. 

She found her eyes drawn to the fire and took a deep breath. The wire heated under the flame, slowly turning cherry red then white. Dropping the lighter, Martin pinned one hand against her chest and pressed the wire into her shoulder, holding her still as the smell of burning flesh filled the air. 

The pain radiated outward from her collarbone, hurting the way that only burns can hurt. She sucked in a deep breath, determined not to scream even as he held the wire to her flesh longer than he needed. Finally, he let up on it, then brushed his finger over the charred area, whistling softly in admiration. 

“Well now,” he murmured, “That looks good on you. Might have to flip you over and do your back too honey. That way I can see it no matter how I’m taking you.” He pinched the burn lightly, bringing tears to her eyes. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

Red couldn’t answer. She lay still on the bed, eyes turned to the ceiling, trying to get her tongue to work, to deny his claim over her but she couldn’t seem to get her thoughts in order. The panic was starting to tinge the edges of her vision, she could feel the need to retreat from him drawing closer.

He smiled widely and got off her, then motioned for her to roll over. She lay still for a moment longer, the command not registering. With a sigh he turned her, positioning her so that he could see her back spread before him like a bare canvas. His hand ran over her skin, marveling at the softness, fingers playing with the dappled scars of old burns that traced over her left flank and back. His fingers found the marks left from repeated backstabs and followed them across her spine. Tilting her head forward, he rubbed the nape of her neck, assessing the softness of that small spot of unblemished skin. 

He reached for the lighter and the wire again, reheating it, his calloused fingers barely feeling the heat. When he felt it was hot enough, he pinned her with his body weight then pressed the wire to the sensitive skin at the base of her hairline. The result was almost instantaneous and much more satisfying than the last burn. She came back from whatever place her mind had managed to hide in, her body writhing under him so hard he was nearly thrown. His free hand pressed down between her shoulder blades to pin her better, he really didn’t want to have to get this healed and then do it again. Better to be perfect the first time. 

Red screamed at the searing pain on the back of her neck. The last burn had been nothing compared to this. The agony swept through her, she was trying to get out from under the weight pinning her without success. She howled, fists beating on the mattress, trying to squirm out from under him. 

Martin groaned softly, feeling himself hardening at the sight. With a soft murmur of approval, he slid off her, dropping the wire onto the floor. Grabbing her hips, he pulled them up and toward him, sliding into her depths with one smooth thrust. Buried inside her, he held still, admiring the livid burn on her nape, then pulled out and thrust again. He managed three strokes before coming deep inside her and rolling to the side, panting. 

Red threw herself off the bed, landing in a sprawled heap on the floor, eyes blazing up at her captor. She wrapped her arms around herself, curling into a tight ball, watching him warily. The burns throbbed on her shoulder and neck, and she felt scraped raw inside. The tears finally came. 

Martin lay sprawled on the bed, feeling sated, watching the girl cry. He propped himself up on one elbow, his tongue running across his lips hungrily. She had been so strong, he really didn’t think this would happen so soon. But here she was, curled in a ball, rocking herself back and forth, sobbing hysterically. He had made this happen, he thought with satisfaction. He had finally broken her. His hand went to his cock as her cries changed timbre, from wails to quiet sobbing and finally exhausted whimpers, the sound of a lost puppy looking for its mother. He had just come, but he could feel himself getting hard all over again. The feeling of power over her was the best aphrodisiac he’d ever experienced. He groaned and stroked himself, memorizing her misery.


	3. Going Home

Late that night, Martin got a blanket off his bed and stood over the girl, just watching her for a moment. She had cried herself to sleep on the floor, so exhausted that even when he moved around the room she barely stirred. He’d left her on the floor while he’d showered and dressed himself, barely acknowledging him even when he tended to her burns. Pulling the key from his pocket, he undid the padlock and chain from her ankle, then wrapped her snugly in the blanket. Picking her up, he carried her through the base. He set her on the seat of Engie’s truck, she struggled to sit up, looking around blearily. “What are you doing to me?” her voice was a cracked whisper, her throat raw and aching. Her head pounded, each beat of her heart throbbing in her temples. She wished her heart would stop beating and end the pain.

“I’m giving you back, Birdie.” He reached over and squeezed her knee, then started the engine. “Don’t worry, I’ll pick you up next weekend.” He chuckled at the small sound of despair she made. “Oh, if you let your Medic heal those burns, I’m just gonna have to redo them.” He patted her cheek lightly, then leaned over and kissed her nose. “You don’t want that, now do you?” He nodded approval as she shook her head, then leaned it against the truck window, staring out at the desert night. He drove carefully, stopping the truck when they were within sight of the RED base. “Out you go.” He leaned over and opened the door for her, then grabbed the trailing end of the blanket she was wrapped in. “And the blanket stays here. I want your entire team to see you walking naked into their base. I want them to know where you’ve been.” He grabbed her wrist, squeezing until the thin bones ground together. “Remember, Friday evening you’re coming to me. If you don’t, I’m gonna track you down and bring you back, understand?” His voice was harsh, conveying the threat as he’d intended. 

She looked down at his hand circling her wrist, then back up at him. She nodded. “I understand.” Her voice was hollow, miserable. 

“Now, go on, birdie.” He leaned back inside the truck and watched as she crossed the dark sand, barefoot and naked, body marked. When she was within range of the RED base’s motion sensors, he beeped the horn twice, watching as the RED team swarmed out of the base and surrounded her, watching as she tried to cover herself from their eyes. 

Martin smiled, anticipating the weekend.


End file.
